Mystery Man
by Grinning Grimly
Summary: A high school John is beat up and rescued by a know it all mystery man.


**This is a quick one-shot for one of my best friends and the person who introduced me to fanfiction (and Johnlock)! Happy Birthday ****Spiro911! Inspired by **_**Welcome to my life **_**by **_**Simple Plan**_**. Also I don't own the characters, the song, or the English language (it's a loan).**

The day was a particularly cold one, piles of snow on the sidewalks continued to grow as the day went on and the thick grey clouds kept the sun at bay. John kept his head down against the constant barrage of snowflakes as he made his way to his next class. He was used to crummy weather, he did live in England after all, but the private boarding school his parents had shipped him off to was much farther north and the weather was a great deal harsher than what he had been accustomed to. Despite his scarf and high collared jacket snow had still managed to creep in, creating an uncomfortable chill against the tender skin of his neck. Deciding it was worth the risk he quickly yanked his hands out of his pockets and attempted to adjust the scarf to prevent anymore of the cold getting in. The scarf was soggy from the snow and general dampness that was northern England's climate; and so the following struggle to rewrap it while keeping his footing on the slippery path as well as keep his bag balanced on his shoulder was a disaster.

The end result was all of his books and other school supplies scattered across the wet pavement. Abandoning his efforts with the troublesome scarf, John quickly knelt down to gather up his sodden belongings. Others were also walking to their next class but nobody stopped to help him, although a few snickered to their friends and someone even kicked one of his textbooks into a pile of freshly shoveled snow. No longer caring about staying dry or warm John scrambled over to the abused book as quickly as he could, textbooks were expensive to replace and he knew tuition was not cheap either. The last thing he wanted to do was call home and explain to his parents why he needed even more money from them. He could imagine his father, who was already disappointed in him because of his lack of athletic skills, letting out a drawn out sigh before lecturing him on responsibility and the importance of academics; the unsaid "_because that's all you have_ _to get by on"_ heavily implied. So it was with complete disregard as he scrambled to save the textbook from further damage that he didn't see the pair of legs walking towards him until they tripped over him.

"What the hell?!" An outraged voice drew John's attention to a figure that was now on the ground next to him. To his horror he recognized the individual as James Moriarty, an upperclassman who seemed to have taken a personal dislike to John because he had made the mistake of raising his hand in class one too many times. All he could think was "_Shit. Bloody everlasting shit". _Before James bounded to his feet and glared down at John who was frozen on his hand and knees. A look of recognition in James's eyes was all the warning John got before a swift kick was delivered to his shoulder, knocking him on his back. Blinking the black spots out of his sight John caught a glimpse of his tormentors face set in a vicious grin before a foot came down on his sternum. (John wanted to become a doctor so he was quite certain that his chest was going to be severely bruised after this beating). All certainties' flew out the window though, when instead of ending it there, the older boy continued with his attack. Several more harsh kicks were administered to John's rib cage and lower abdominal area before he slipped into unconsciousness.

His first thought upon waking up was _"Did I get my bag?"_ As he became more lucid the much more practical thought of "_Where am I? How did I get here?" _Where ever "here" was he was comfortable and someone had removed his jacket, scarf, and gloves. Cautiously craning his neck to get a look around the room (he half expected James to be there waiting to jump him again) and seeing no one there he attempted to sit up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a dry voice drawled from some unseen location "the couch on which you are reclining is very old, I'm surprised you haven't impaled yourself on one of the springs in your sleep."

"Really?" John blurted out before he had time to consider the statement and its ridiculousness. Feeling foolish he again tried to catch a glimpse of the person who was watching him.

"Naturally, although upon seeing your injuries I administered several doses of various medications I deemed necessary after coming across your prone form approximately seventy three meters from the entrance to the dormitory in which you are currently recovering in. That is what you are doing by the way, recovering, thanks to me." The voice was slightly condescending, and the vocabulary more advanced than most students, maybe he was a teacher? John was becoming aware of the pain in his chest and found that it hurt to breathe.

"Th- thanks" he managed to wheeze, "Mister…?"

"Please you incompetent idiot, I am not a teacher. Try to keep up won't you John? My God, you certainly aren't as bright as a scholarship case should be. The fact that I said you are in a dormitory eliminates any and all likely hood of me being an administrator. Not to mention that fact that the blundering morons wouldn't have found you until you thawed out in the spring. Come on now use your head!"

"I-I" John was at a loss, perhaps it was all a prank? "I'm sorry but you haven't caught me at one of my best moments-"

"Yes, yes I _know _that John" the voice rudely interrupted, "yet another fact I have already stated. I have observed the injuries inflicted to your person; five kicks to the rib cage, two to the lower abdominal, one kick to the shoulder, one stomp to your sternum, and a slight bruising from where your head knocked against the pavement."

Once again John couldn't find the words he needed, and the pain in his chest was worsening.

"Please….m-my….chest." At this he closed his eyes, feeling the darkness begin to wash over him again.

"Oh no you don't, death is such a messy business that I refuse to allow to occur in my domain. Do you hear me?" A long suffering sigh was all the warning John had before a hand slapped his chest, right where James had stomped on him earlier.

"What the hell? Shit, shit, shit! That hurt you condescending jackass!" John shot up, springs be damned, only to come face to face with the owner of the voice.

Dark auburn hair obscured the older boy's eyes in gentle curls, a stark contrast to the flawless alabaster skin that was stretched over fine cheek bones which accented a pair of soft pink lips. John halted his assessment when the boy cleared his throat, causing John to meet stony grey eyes that seemed to glow with an inner mirth. Suddenly, nose to nose the mystery boy started straight into John's eyes for several seconds before bringing his hand up to eye level and revealing four colorful pills.

"Take these, they will numb the pain. There is no internal bleeding, severe bruising and a small crack in the lower left rib, which will heal on its own provided an event similar to today's is not repeated within the span of four and a half weeks." Too dumbfounded by the brief and concise report John took the pills and dry swallowed the, never breaking eye contact with his savior. "That was a stupid thing to do, you foolish idiot. What if that had been poison? Do you often take supposed medication from strangers? Well John, answer these questions."

"What? No! It's just, I mean, I suppose my day can't get any worse. And you saved me so it wouldn't make much sense for you to drag me up here only to off me." John tried to reason through it while deciding whether or not to make a run for the door.

"Acceptable, you are not a complete idiot. You have passed the test; I will allow you to stay. Now quiet while I enhance my mind." With that the mystery man sprung up and went over to a shelf from which he grabbed an old pipe. Pouring a bit of some unknown powder inside he lit the substance with a practiced hand. Without turning around he said "It isn't polite to stare, however fascinating my habits may be to a mind of lower caliber. I already told you that you will be staying, go back to sleep. If your need to stay conscious is somehow derived from the foolish notion that Moriarty will hunt you down; then go to sleep. He will not bother you here, though doubtless he knows where you are. But I am more than a match for the likes of _him_."

Still slightly befuddled, though oddly comforted, John asked one final question before slipping off into sleep. "Who are you?"

"Figure it out yourself my dear Watson." Came the patronizing tone replied. So John was lulled to sleep by whatever was in the pipe and the knowledge that he was safe with is mystery man.

**What do you think? It turned out way longer than I thought it would be, and I might continue it if anyone shows an interest in it.**


End file.
